


The Last

by Kibu



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotions, Family Feels, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 19:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kibu/pseuds/Kibu
Summary: A short piece following All That Remains.





	The Last

You don't have to keep standing tall when the lights go out.

So many feared the dark and what terrors it could bring, but unlike them he embraced it. Hawke welcomed the anonymity the darkness brought; how it hid him from well-meaning but prying eyes. The dark let him breathe. The dark brought him peace.

His footsteps should have echoed ominously through the empty manor, but the sound was dampened by the carpets and draperies instead. Fitting. His emotions felt that way too: stifled, strangled beneath heavy coverings. The wry smile he made himself wear was too tight and made his face ache. When there was light, however, he had to keep it up. He couldn't let them see the truth.

One hand covered his face, holding it in place and keeping the mask from falling away. Smile. Keep smiling. Find an opportunity to crack wise like the smartass they expect you to be. With a noise that was half growl, half sob, he swung one muscular arm out and smashed the nearby lamp. Oil spilled over his hand and the fine silk of his sleeve, but the flame died before it had a chance to set the fabric alight. He ripped the ruined sleeve from his jacket and jerked himself upright, standing straight and tall once more.

He was alone. Father had gone first; then Bethany; then Carver. It had been just him and mother - now it was only him, standing in the smothering silence of the empty house. He staggered toward his bedroom, his legs refusing to bend and convey him there like an ordinary person. The other lamp he snuffed with a gesture as he passed it. The flame leapt from the wick toward him at the flick of his fingers, but took its final gasp mid-flight and never reached its destination.

Warm and inviting, Hawke's room welcomed him into a loving embrace. The curtains had been drawn and a fire crackled merrily behind the grate. His bed had been helpfully turned down before he'd asked everyone to kindly leave him be and get out of the house. He closed the fist that had beckoned to the lamp a moment before and the cheerful fire blinked out of existence, plunging the room into absolute darkness.

The dark let him grieve.

Hawke found the bed by instinct and sank down on it gratefully. His cocky mask splintered and shattered as the first sharp breath rattled through his chest. It was the breaking of the dam.

Both hands covered his face and his body was wracked by the force of his sobs and the way he gasped for air between them. So cocooned was he in his grief and suffering that he didn't hear the soft footfalls on the carpet. He didn't realize he wasn't alone until another voice twined its way through the gaps in his own.

"I don't know what to say, but... I am here."

Hawke gave a strangled gulp and looked up sharply into the blanket of darkness. There was no light left for him to discern the familiar shape, let alone seek out specific features. All he had was sound. Then there was touch: Fenris's hand, light and hesitant on his shoulder. Hawke wiped his palms on his trousers and reached for that hand, fingertips skimming up the bare skin of Fenris's arm. There he found shoulder, neck, and the cheek that fit so perfectly in the cup of his hand.

As Hawke relied on touch, skin dragging against skin, the darkness was challenged. The lyrium embedded throughout Fenris's skin rose to meet the magic in Hawke's touch and shed a faint blue glow as he passed over each dot or line. It lit that small space, only faintly illuminating each of them in the otherwise perfect darkness.

"I didn't think you'd come," Hawke admitted. His voice was rough and thick, lacking the charming edge he kept on it at all other times.

"I cannot leave you alone. Not like this." The light shifted as Fenris moved. He took Hawke's hand and removed it from his cheek, but continued to hold it as he sat down beside Hawke. "To be honest, I don't think there is much point to filling these moments with empty talk. But if there are things you wish to say, I am willing to listen. I am here, Hawke."

Hawke listened to the gentle cadence of Fenris's voice, letting it fold around him as the cocoon of darkness had before. This was warmer; softer. It made him feel safe and protected. "I don't know if I know what to say, either," he finally said. "But knowing you're here with me, empty talk or no, is more than I could ever ask for."

There were no words following from Fenris, but Hawke thought he saw a small smile outlined by the faint light. Hawke breathed out but said no more. He rested his head on Fenris's shoulder, silently borrowing some of the elf's offered strength.

The dark brought him peace. But the light brought him comfort.


End file.
